


Widow's Flight

by Mhalachai



Series: A Widow's Tale [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Control Issues, Gen, Hulk smashes things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mhalachai/pseuds/Mhalachai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because after ten hours in an Arizona state lockup, the last person Bruce Banner wanted to see was Natasha Romanoff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Widow's Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Set soon after the events in the movie.

By five o'clock in the evening, Bruce was convinced that not a single person on the planet would blame him for Hulking out.

At seven that morning, he'd been driving on the interstate east of Flagstaff when a state trooper pulled him over for speeding. Bruce was pretty sure it was a joke (he never drove over the limit; the Big Guy really didn't like surprises on the road) but he did as the trooper asked.

That's when things started to go downhill.

While Bruce was certain the driver's license he'd been given by SHIELD was valid, the deputy was convinced that the shiny new card was forged. So they had gone back to the station and Bruce had tried to explain patiently that yes, the card was valid and he'd been driving for years now and no, he didn't have any other identification with him because why should he, this was America, and the sheriff had invited Bruce to cool his heels in the holding cell.

Noon turned into three o'clock turned into five o'clock and the sheriff still hadn't come back to the holding cell. Bruce concentrated on controlling his breathing and cultivating his calm, lest things end badly for everyone. He contemplated asking for his phone call and calling someone for help, but he didn't want to involve Tony (involving Tony with the police never ended well) and in spite of recent events, Bruce Banner would rather spend a few years in lock-up before voluntarily asking SHIELD for anything.

His shirt collar was feeling a bit tight.

A commotion outside the holding cell caught Bruce's attention, and he was just opening his eyes as the door to the holding area opened and in strode someone he really didn't want to see in his current state.

Natasha Romanoff.

"Looks like your lawyer showed up," drawled the sheriff from over Natasha's shoulder. He was concentrating more on the woman's backside than anything, so he didn't catch the warning head-shake Natasha gave Bruce.

Bruce leaned his arms against the metal bars of the cell and tried not to think how easily the big guy could rip this place apart. "Looks like she did," he agreed, trying to figure out how Natasha found him.

He'd save the _why_ for later.

"So just more paperwork and your client will be free to go in a few hours," the sheriff continued.

Natasha's eyes grew dark, a warning sign Bruce knew well, and turned slowly to stare at the sheriff. "My client," she said in an icy voice that could turn lesser men into whimpering heaps, "is free to go _now_ , unless you'd care to explain to the governor's task force on governmental corruption why your department has been using the interstate as your own personal piggy bank by arresting out-of-state drivers at quadruple the rate of the local population."

The sheriff opened his mouth to say something, but Natasha gave a quick chop of her hand. The sheriff winced as if he'd been slapped. 

"Not to mention the fact that you're not including the subsequent fines in your annual revenue stream," Natasha added, and smiled widely enough to show her teeth.

Ten minutes later, Bruce was standing outside the police station, suitcase in hand, blinking at the afternoon sun.

"I don't suppose you can get them to release my car," he said mildly as Natasha stalked past him towards a black SUV. 

"Sure, if you want to stay here overnight," Natasha said, opening the driver's door and climbing into the vehicle. "Either get in or you can bunk in with the sheriff." She slammed the door.

"It's good to see you too," Bruce said to the empty air, and rounded the SUV to the passenger side. The vehicle's interior smelled of new car and the faintest edge of perfume, the chemical combination clashing in Bruce's head as he closed the door. Natasha had the SUV in gear and pulling out of the parking lot before the door had even latched.

Bruce settled back in the seat and watched the passing scenery as Natasha whipped down the roads toward the freeway. "So, just passing through?" he asked, trying not to think too hard about the fact they were driving at speeds best left to the professionals.

"Your name came up on the SHIELD database when that idiot sheriff ran your ID. Director Fury decided it would be prudent if you were given some assistance," Natasha said, gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles were white.

Even though he'd only known her for a few months, Bruce knew damn well that it wasn't the driving making her nervous. He let out a low breath. He was fine. He could deal with this. "Thanks for your help," he said, keeping his gaze on Natasha. 

She didn't look at him, but her breathing picked up and the flutter of her pulse under the pale skin of her throat beat a little faster.

His collar was still feeling a little tight.

"Don't mention it," Natasha said, running her tongue over her lower lip. Over the chill of the air conditioner the scent of her perfume grew stronger, the effect of increased body temperature in an enclosed space.

A very small space, speeding down the road at nearly eighty miles an hour.

Bruce unclenched his fist, smoothing his palm over his knee. Calm. He needed calm.

But Natasha was growing more nervous by the moment, and that wasn't fucking helping.

"Where are we going?" Bruce asked, trying to distract himself from the tight ball of anger in his stomach. In the jail cell, at least, he was by himself and he could concentrate. But now there were too many things happening, chipping away at his control. The car was moving too fast, the scenery was passing too quickly, the woman in the car with him was too nervous.

"There's an airstrip across state lines in Nevada we can use to get a ride back to New York," Natasha said. They'd passed into brush country, with no living soul to be seen. Just dust and sand and scrub. 

Because the only thing worse than being in the enclosed car with Natasha when she was like this, would being in an enclosed aircraft with Natasha like this. 

Who the hell was he trying to fool? The problem wasn't Natasha, it would never be Natasha, it was him, the big guy, the giant fucking rage monster who was this close to bursting out and--

"Why aren't you wearing your seat belt?" Natasha asked, distracting Bruce, but not enough.

"If we crash, it's better if I end up on the other side of the windshield," he said, drumming his fingers against his thigh. His fingertips looked green in the desert light. 

In the quiet of the car, he could hear Natasha let out a slightly ragged breath. "Right."

Bruce couldn't stand any more. "Can you pull the car over?"

To her everlasting credit, Natasha didn't slam on the brakes, but eased the car into a controlled deceleration. When the car stopped by a small road branching off the freeway, Bruce was out of the car in a shot, heading down the side road away from the SUV. 

He was fine. He had to be fine. He just needed some air. Dry desert air, burning in the desert sun but that didn't matter, there was nothing over his head, no metal cage enclosing him. He was fine. He had to be fine. He wasn't a monster; he'd held himself in check for years in some of the most overcrowded and stressful conditions on the planet. He wasn't going to fall apart now. He could keep control of himself. He had to.

Bruce kept walking.

After a few minutes, he heard the SUV engine rev, but he couldn't even bring himself to care if Natasha was abandoning him in the desert. She should have left him in the jail cell.

Who was he kidding? She should have left him in India and yes, he was still angry about that.

The whine of the SUV grew closer. Maybe she was going to run him down. 

Part of him would really enjoy punching a Ford in the face.

But no, that was the anger talking. Because Natasha might be nervous around him but she wouldn't try to hurt him. She knew she couldn't kill him, so she wouldn't try. She probably had no desire to meet the big guy again.

He wondered if she knew the other guy could out-race a car at top speed. 

The SUV grew closer, closer, then Natasha drove straight past him and swerved the vehicle across the road. Bruce stopped in his tracks as Natasha climbed out of the SUV and planted herself in his path. 

"What's going on?" she demanded, hands on her hips. 

Bruce smiled in a way that bared all his teeth, because if she kept pushing his buttons, this was all going to end up green and messy. "Please get out of my way."

"No." Natasha stared up at him, her head thrown back, her eyes very green in the bright afternoon sun. Fight or flight, and Natasha had chosen flight in the past. 

He wondered if she'd run again.

Bruce stepped closer, so close he could see Natasha's pupils dilate in his shadow. "I'm not exactly feeling myself," he said, biting down on each word. "You should leave."

Natasha squared her shoulders, pushing into his personal space. It was an incredibly stupid thing to do. "No."

" _Move_."

"No."

Bruce turned to step around her, having had quite enough of whatever Natasha was trying to prove (to him? to herself?), and he didn't see her move until her hand was on his arm.

The contact was unexpected and it spun Bruce around, bring Natasha with him until she was trapped between him and the unyielding metal side of the SUV. She looked as shocked as he felt. 

He wanted to throw her against the SUV, this woman who had pulled him out of India, wanted to run, wanted to crush the ground beneath his feet. 

Very carefully, he released her and stepped back from the SUV. She stayed where she was.

"Don't grab me again," he said after a minute of careful breathing. 

"I can't make any promises."

"Natasha--"

"We have to be able to sit in a car together," she interrupted him, easing her shoulders out of the defensive position. "We have to be able to work together."

"And what would you recommend to make that happen?" Bruce demanded, throwing his arms wide. "When we're not out there, fighting something, you tense up whenever I'm within ten feet of you!"

"I do not--"

"Ten feet," Bruce repeated. "Whenever I'm in a room, you watch me, always keeping near an exit."

"I do that with everyone," she shot back, and it pulled Bruce up short, makes him think back. 

She wasn't that way with Clint, or even Tony, but in the month Bruce had known Natasha, she always stood near the door with Steve Rogers, and even Nick Fury, let alone the myriad of nameless SHIELD agents.

"I do that with everyone," she repeated. 

It pushed back the anger for the moment. Only for the moment. "You don't run from anyone else."

Because above all else, he remembered her running.

Natasha straightened her spine, standing as tall as she could in the bright afternoon sun. "I'm not going to run anymore," she said, and all of a sudden, with horrible clarity, Bruce could see where this was going.

"Fuck no," he said, walking around the SUV and heading off down the road. "You want to play chicken, you go stand in the freeway."

"He doesn't come after me in battle," Natasha called after Bruce. 

"He has something else to go after in battle," Bruce said over his shoulder. "Do you see any robot aliens around here?"

"I think you're afraid."

That pronouncement, made into the stillness of the desert road, made Bruce stop. He turned around.

"I think you're afraid that the other guy has more control than you want to admit," Natasha went on, her hands on her hips and her red hair blowing free in the breeze. "Because if he has that control, then you've spent the last few years fighting the wrong monster."

"And you want me to turn into a green giant to what, prove your point?" Bruce demanded. "By _not_ turning you into a stain on the asphalt?"

"You don't go after good people!"

"So why did I go after you?" Bruce yelled, feeling the top button on his shirt popping under the strain. 

"You know why," Natasha said, standing very still. 

And he did. Because she took him away from the safety of India and pulled him into someone else's war, all to save her friend. 

He'd gone after her on the helicarrier because she had run away from him. Because she'd been absolutely terrified. Because he could smell her fear and it made him angry, that she'd been afraid of what he was.

It was too late; he couldn't stop it now. With a violent motion, Bruce pulled his shirt up over his head and kicked off his shoes, just before everything exploded in rage.

* * *

The sky was big and clean and empty. So Hulk roared.

The sound disappeared into the sky, bouncing faint off the rocks and few trees, so he roared again. Nothing attacked him, so he gave a jump and landed fists first in the dirt. The ground split under his hands, hard dirt crumbling. He got to his feet and stomped around for a bit, the dirt giving way to hard stone. 

Something moved, and Hulk whirled. Across the dry rock expanse stood a human.

A tiny human woman.

He remembered that woman.

He remembered that woman running away from him.

So he stomped across the field towards that woman, only this time she didn't run away.

Closer and closer, and she didn't run away.

Hulk came to a stompy halt close to the woman, so close he could touch her if he reached out his arm. She was short and small and she had red hair and very green eyes. 

He roared at her.

She put her hands over her ears but she didn't back away or run.

Hulk stopped roaring. 

She took her hands away from her ears and didn't run. Most people ran away from Hulk.

He frowned. His head was always itchy when he woke up. His head was itchy now. 

He reached out one hand and tapped the little woman's shoulder. It wasn't a hard tap, but she staggered for a moment. Probably because she was very small. 

"TINY," Hulk said with a huff, pulling back his hand.

"Well, yes," said the small person, hands at her sides and staring straight up at him. 

"WOMAN RUN."

The woman tensed up; her smell changed to the nervous smell. Hulk didn't like that. She'd smelled like that in the metal place in the sky.

But just as fast, her shoulders went down and the nervous smell went away. "Yes, I'm the one who ran away. I'm not going to do it again."

"HRMPH." Hulk eyed her, remembering that she had fought the bad things from the sky, had stood with all the others when the puny god had been stomped. She hadn't run then.

He remembered other things, foggy things, recent things. She had yelled at him and hadn't run away. Maybe she was a friend. At least, not an enemy.

Hulk lost interest in the small human. He wandered over to a big rock outcropping, one that was nice and pointy and solid, and set about smashing it with his hands until it was just rubble on the ground. That made him feel better, and cleared his head. 

The sky was very quiet. He liked it when the sky was quiet.

Hulk picked up a rock the size of his chest and hurled it at a cloud. He watched it go up, and he watched it come down. When it was halfway down, he jumped up as high as he could and punched that rock right out of the sky. When he landed, the whole ground shook.

"Hey, big guy!"

Hulk stood up. The little human was peeking out from behind a large bolder. 

"Do I call you Bruce or can I call you Hulk?"

Hulk had to think about that. He wasn't Bruce. That was the other guy. "HULK."

"I'm Natasha."

He eyed her. She had something in her hand, a small black round thing. He remembered those things. Other small humans had tried to hurt him with those things, long ago.

Would she try to hurt him?

The little woman with red hair saw him looking at the black thing. She held it up carefully. "Do you want to play catch?"

"CATCH WHAT?"

"Grenades," the human said. "Try and catch it before it explodes."

The little human had fought with him before. The little black things couldn't hurt him. 

Something rumbled in the Hulk's chest. Something like... fun. "WOMAN THROW."

"My name is Natasha," she said.

Hulk tried again. "TASH. THROW."

She pulled the tiny metal pin free of the round thing and hurled it into the sky. She threw farther than Hulk expected from a small human, but he was Hulk. When he jumped up into the air to catch the grenade, it slammed into his hand and exploded in his face.

He crashed back to earth sideways. Momentarily dazed, he shook his head and stumbled to his feet. When he looked, the little human was half hidden behind her rock, staring at him.

He jumped up and down a few times in place, feeling the ground crack under him, just because.

"TASH THROW MORE."

The little woman stepped out from behind her rock, and she smiled. "Sure thing, big guy."

She threw and threw and Hulk caught every one in the air. He wondered if she wanted him to catch one and throw it back to her, but she was small and not green and she would probably bleed a lot if she had to catch a grenade. He didn't want the little human to bleed. She had fought with him against the bad god. 

Too soon, little Tash held up her hands. "All gone, Hulk. You're going to have to smash stuff on your own now."

Hulk shook his head. The sky was quiet and he liked it that way. "CATCH MORE."

Little Tash put her hands on her hips. "It's all about destruction for you, isn't it?"

Hulk punched the ground. "THROW." He demonstrated by pulling a stunted tree out of the ground and breaking it in half. He tossed one half into the air, and jumped up after it to punch it out of the sky. "EASY."

Little Tash crawled out from behind the car, shaking splinters out of her hair. "No trees for me, I'm afraid." She cocked her head to the side. "How would you feel about something more... explosive?"

Hulk walked towards her. This time, she didn't tense up. "BIG SMASH," he agreed.

She smiled at him. He liked her smile. She also liked to smash things. From the trunk of the car, she pulled out a long black tube thing. He also remembered those, from the men who tried to hurt him.

He remembered those explosions were harder to catch than the grenades.

Little Tash swung up the black tube and pointed it away from Hulk. "I bet you can't catch this before it explodes."

Hulk growled. He was fast. He was strong. He wasn't even tired. 

Little Tash fired, and Hulk ran. The ground shook under his feet and the wind whistled in his ears and he caught the explosive just before it hit the ground.

The explosion was glorious.

Far away, little Tash laughed. 

Lying flat on his back in a rocky field, Hulk laughed too.

* * *

The world around him hummed oddly. 

Bruce opened his eyes to see the scenery passing quickly through the SUV's open window. He blinked a few times, not really sure what was going on.

He remembered Natasha yelling at him. He remembered the sheriff's station. He remembered being very angry indeed.

"We'll be at the air strip in an hour," said a quiet familiar voice. Bruce turned his head. Natasha was driving once again, looking far calmer than she had before.

"What..." He lifted his head off the seat rest and looked around. His shirt was on, but his skin felt tight with dirt and sweat. He had a blanket across his lap, which made him realize... "Where are my pants?"

Natasha smirked at him, something resembling humor in her eyes. "Hulk smashed the hell out of those no-iron khakis."

Bruce groaned. 

"You can put your spare pants on when we get to the air strip," Natasha said. It was almost as if she was enjoying this. "I put your shirt on in case we were pulled over. I didn't feel like explaining why there was a dirty naked man in my SUV."

"This dirty naked man thanks you," Bruce muttered. He looked at his hands, frowning. That didn't look like just dirt. 

Something tweaked in his memory, hazy behind the anger, that made Bruce sit upright, nearly losing his strategically placed blanket. "Did you fire a bazooka at me?"

"At the Hulk," Natasha said, sounding not at all repentant. "I've seen the footage from Harlem, it wouldn't hurt him."

"A _bazooka_?" Bruce repeated.

"The Hulk liked it."

"Stop calling him that!"

"That's what he told me to call him," Natasha explained, taking a freeway exit with careless grace. "Calm down, we had fun."

Bruce pressed a hand against his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the explosives smell on his skin. "That was the stupidest thing I have ever heard--"

"It was fine--"

"What is wrong with you?" Bruce demanded. "You don't just set off a monster like that!"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You don't get it, do you?" she asked. "Stark is right, you're far too good at this to go off without a good reason. If a few strongly worded retorts were enough to make you mad, Tony would have been mincemeat a hundred times over by now."

"So you go from barely being able to be in a room with me to playing lawn darts with the green guy?"

"You were right, we need to be able to work together," Natasha said, sounding bored of the conversation.

"And your _team building exercise of the day_ was to turn me green and fire military grade ordinance at me?" Bruce demanded. 

"You let me do it, because it was me." Natasha glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "The big guy knew who I was."

"And he didn't hurt you?" Bruce asked, knowing the answer but not sure what to think.

Natasha smiled at the empty road in front of them. "Of course not."

Bruce let his head fall back. "You couldn't know that was what would happen," he said. The thought that he could have somehow hurt Natasha made him feel sick to his stomach. She may have been able to defend herself from anyone else on the planet, with her weapons and her wits, but that would mean absolutely nothing against the Hulk if he decided to smash her into bits. 

"I was willing to extrapolate from past data."

Oh, she did _not_ just bring science into this. "May I point out the glaring data point of the big guy ripping apart a helicarrier trying to get to you?"

She shrugged. "Once."

"Once." Bruce gave up. Tony was right; Agent Natasha Romanoff was certifiably insane. 

"And don't worry about the landscaping," Natasha said, swinging the SUV onto a dirt road that did not look like it led to an airstrip. "SHIELD cordoned off the area as an undiscovered wartime munitions dump."

Bruce sighed. He supposed it was better than taking out a dozen city blocks, but still. He shifted in his seat under the blanket, bare skin uncomfortable against the leather seats, and something occurred to him.

"How did I get back to the car?"

"How do you think?"

He didn't feel as if he'd been dragged over a rocky field, and it was unlikely that the big guy would walk back to the SUV and collapse into the passenger seat. That could only mean...

"I carried you," Natasha explained matter-of-factly. "Shoulder carry, so your stomach may feel a little out of sorts."

Bruce closed his eyes. Because every man wanted to have a beautiful tiny woman sling them over a shoulder, naked and unconscious, and haul them away.

And then dress them and thrown them into an SUV,

Oh god, Tony was going to _eat him alive_ for this one.

"Here's the air strip," Natasha announced, sounding slightly more cheerful. The bumpiness of the dirt road smoothed out into a flat surface. In moments, the SUV came to a stop beside a SHIELD flyer. Natasha slid out of the vehicle, leaving Bruce behind, pantsless and shoeless.

Oh yes, Tony was going to _love_ this.

The passenger door popped open, and Natasha was handing Bruce some clothing. His spare pants.

"You can put on the rest in the carrier," she said, not turning away as Bruce pushed away the blanket and shimmed into the old jeans. Bruce was starting to think that there was very little that could phase Natasha Romanoff.

Bruce followed Natasha into the flyer. He was unsurprised when Natasha headed straight to the pilot's seat and belted herself in. This time, she didn't comment when he left the seat's straps alone.

"There's some power bars in the side cubby," she said as she began her pre-flight check. "Water too."

Bruce stowed his suitcase in an upper rack, forgoing shoes for the moment. He found the power bars and water, and had eaten two bars before the flyer started its ascent. He didn't know how Natasha knew he'd need to eat so soon after a Hulk episode. Tony got it, because how else could a body exert that much activity and not need a caloric refresh? But no one else seemed to give it much thought.

He finished another power bar, drank half a liter of water, then settled back in the co-pilot chair to watch Natasha.

"Have you proven your point?" he finally asked.

She didn't pretend she didn't know what he was talking about. "I think we've demonstrated that our working relationship can be functional in the future," she said smoothly.

Bruce took another sip of water. Something was coalescing in his head, small details of the afternoon pulling together into a coherent piece. He knew that, more than anything, Natasha valued control. She was always in control of every situation, wove her way through every encounter with skill and grace. 

The only time that had failed was with the big guy on the helicarrier... no, before that. In India, she had been off her game from the moment he stepped into the small hut. What he _was_ scared her so badly that she'd been off-centre on the helicarrier, had run from the other guy when he'd gone after her.

But today, she'd stood right there as he'd let loose the inner monster; had apparently soothed the beast and introduced exploding weaponry into their relationship.

She probably thought that this meant the next time the Hulk came out around explosions and danger, he wouldn't see Natasha as a threat, wouldn't see her as an enemy.

And she had risked her life to test her hypothesis, in a controlled environment where he couldn't have possibly hurt anyone else, or seen any threat besides her.

And Natasha valued control above all else.

"I hope you're right," Bruce said after a minute. She didn't look away from the horizon, which was fine with Bruce because he wasn't sure he could look her in the eye right then.

He was starting to realize how very dangerous Natasha Romanoff really was.

  
_end_   



End file.
